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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



A Junior's Poems 



BY .. 



G: HrA:^ONRARD 



"^Au^y 7 c. 



CINCINNATI • 

PRINTED BY METHVEN BROTHERS, 

1891. 



-f6 3-r»s' 



Entered according to act of Congress, in tlie year lSf)l, by 

G. 11. A. (ONKAKD, 

in the ottice of tlio Lil)rarian of Congress, at Wasliington 



TO 

H. C. DAWSON, Esq., 

MAYOR OF HILLSBORO, O., 
This A^^LUME Is Dedicated. 



Pueri longis rationibus assem 

DiscUiit in partes centum diducere. Dicat 

Filius Albini : Si de quincunce remota est 

Vincia, quid superet ? Poteras dixisse : Triens. Eu ! 

Rem poteris servare tuam. Redit uncia, quid tit ? 

Semis. At haec aninios aerugo et cura peculi 

Cum semel imbuerit, speramus carmina fingi 

Posse linenda cedro et levi servanda cupresso ? 

— HORACE. 



CONTENTS. 



PAftE 



"Death of Day, .... 9 

Autumn, . 13 

Hafiz and the King, 15 

Address to Our Professor, 16 

The Queen of the West, 18 

The Soldier's Dream, 21 

Highland's Hills, 24 

Kesme Falls, 25 

The First Flower, 27 

The Old Friends, 29 

The Forester's Song, 31 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The Rivulet, 33 

In June, 37 

The Queen of May, 39 

Song, 42 

The Dying Child 44 

The Smithy, 46 

A Storm at Sea, 49 

A Golden Deed, 53 

Camp Song, ..... 55 

The School-Boy's Dream 57 

A Vacation Reverie 63 

Swept and Low, 75 

The Kingdom and its Queen, - ., . jg. 

Ode to Maecenas, 83 

Tlie Funeral of the Roses, S(). 

The Silly Little Bird, ... 89 

F.estal Ode to Our Rector, ... . . 93. 
Feast-Day Address to Our Rector, . . . . . . -9,7 

St. \Lartin's Day, loi 

A November Elegy, 104. 

May Joy Be Thine, 107 

The Oolden Jubilee, 109. 



DEATH OF DAY. 

^"T^OLL, toll, toll I rang the Vesper bell, 

For the Day was dying : 
Time's cruel spear had fell, 

And in its flying 
Pierced his heart 
Like a dart 

Pierces the chamois fleet, 
That leaps 
O'er rugged steeps. 
Then falls at its slayers feet. 

His heart was a-bleeding ; 
And his blood 
Poured forth in resistless flood, 



10 DEATH OF DAY. 

And far o'er the Western sky, 
Far, far on high, 
Its crimson was a spreading. 

The Day on his iowly bed 

Lay moaning and sighing ; 
Soon the West-wind came and said 
The prayers for the dying ; 
And then far, 

Far on high 
An angel lit the evening star — 
The taper of the sky. 

Knell, knell, knell ! 
Rang the Vesper bell, 

For the Day was dead ; 

Then with mantles of mourning over them 
spread, 

Far o'er the land the shadows fled 
As messengers, to tell 

That Dav at last was dead. 



DEATH OF DAY. 11 

Then like a loving child, 
With a whisper soft and mild, 

Pale Twilight came to the West ; 

And with fair .arms young and strong, 
Clasp'd him to her breast 
And held him long; 

While the Forest sighed 
For the Day that had died ; 
And as the dark mantle over them crept, 
The Heavens wept. 

Shedding their dewy tears 
Like an aged man weeping o'er vanished 
years. 

Then the angels weeping 
Gazed on the dead sweetly sleeping; 
And far, far on high 

They hung the flickering tapers of the sky. 
Came with a solemn tread 
The black-robed Hours, 



12 DEATH OF DAY. 

Their mourning-weeds fringed with the 
gleams of the stars ; 
Softly they spread 
A paJl o'er the dead ; 

And then with foot-steps light, 

While thro' the gloom and the dim 
The Vesper bell 
Toll'd its parting knell, 
They took him and they buried him 
Deep in the Tomb of Night ! 



AUTUMN. 

/T^HE Autumn winds are wailing — sadly wailing ! 
The woods are fraught with moaning and with 
- sighs; 
In gullies deep the fallen leaves are trailing, 

The somber clouds have darkened all the skies. 



The maple groves are fill'd with yelloAv glory ; 

The sumac leaves have turned to red and gold 
While stands the naked oak, all aged and hoary, 

Guarding the forest like a knight of old. 

The lark no longer sings within the meadow ; 

The swallow skims no more across the lea ; 
Nor robin sings within the grove's deep shadow, 

And all the land is dismal as can be. 



14 AUTUMN. 



tell me, Nature, wherefore all this sadness ? 

tell me, woodlands, why is all this woe ? 
And tell me, meadows, where is all thy gladness ? 

iVnd why, winds, ye wail so sad and low ? 



" Alas I the land is full of moans and sighing," 
The wind replied a-coming o'er the wold ; 

'' For all of Nature weeps for summer dying, 

And sadly mourns — the year is growing old ! " 

Ah, thus witli life when it is fast declining, 

And silver hairs are woven 'mong the gold ; 

For all the past we never cease repining, 

And sigh to think that we are growing old I 



HAFIZ AND THE KING. 

INSCRIBED TO EDWARD S. ROONEY, CINCINNATI, 0. 

OPAKE a king to the poet, Hafiz : 

'' To thee, bard and seer, 
Next to our land and Allah, 

What deem est thou niost dear ? " 
Then to the Persian monarch 

Answered the bard and seer : 
" Next to our country and Allah, 

I hold thy love most dear. " 

The monarch smiled on Hafiz, 

And with a well-pleased look. 
He thanked the bowing singer 
And gave him a golden book. 



ADDRESS TO OUR PROFESSOR. 

Q^LOW falls the sand in the hour-glass, 

When counted grain by grain ; 
But fast fly the precious moments — 

Never to return again ! — 
And leave like the flying meteor 
Only a glittering train. 

Ah, thus the jeweled moments 

Have sped us swiftly by. 
Till they've brought another Christmas- 
And the New Year draweth nigh I 



ADDRE5S TO OUR PROEESSOR. 17 

And thou, friend and teacher, 

Who hastwatched our moments go, 
And hastmade the train of the vanished ones 

Brighter than meteor's glow. 
Our love we wish to show thee — 
For a debt of love we owe. 

Thou hast been our faithful guardian 
Thro' the days that, gliding by. 
Have brought us another Christmas 
And another New Year nigh. 

Could time be more propitious 

Our gratitude to return 
Than the approach of the joyous Christmas, 
When the dear Christ-child was born ? 
Then accept our love's slight token ; 

And when comes the Christmas morn, 
May its blessed hours and moments 

Go merrily, gaily by, 
And for thee may the year be happy 
That is fastly drawing nigh ! 

PoETBY Class, St. X. C, Christmas, 1889. 



THE QUEEN OF THE WEST. 

The Queen of the West 

In her garlands dress'd, 

On the banks of the Beautiful River. 

LONGFELLOW. 

" C\^ ^^^ banks of the Beautiful River," 

Shut in by the hills that arise 
Like the strong rustic pillars of nature. 

Supporting the dome of the skies, 
She sits iaher pride and her glor3% 

With the joys of a century bless'd — 
noble in truth is our city, 

The Pride and the Queen of the West I 



THE QUEEN OF THE WEST. 19 

Has America nurtured another 

With children more loyal and brave ? 
Has ever a city more lovely 

Risen over the Red man's grave ? 
Has ever the world seen a city 

With such prosperity bless'd 
As the Maid of the Beautiful Valley — 

As our city, the Queen of the West ? 

The wigwams long since are in ruins, 

The camp-fires have long died away ; 
And the forests that skirted the River 

Have fallen to earth and decay ; 
But the Pride of the Valley has risen 

Where the foot of the Indian has press'd, 
Till she stands in her beauty and glory, — 

Our city — the Queen of the West. 

Our city — lo\^liest maiden ! 

Tho' vanished the blushes of youth, 



20 THE QUEEN OF THE WEST. 

She proclaims herself by her beauty, 

The Pride of the Valley in truth : 
^The Pride of that Beautiful Valley 

With the fruits of prosperity bless'd, 

lovely indeed is our city — 

The Pride and the Queen of the West ! 

Pride of the Valley ! uplifting 

Thy tall burnished spires to the sky, 
mayest thou ne'er lose thy beauty, 

And may thy pride never die ! 
That when other ages shall see thee, 

And again in thy garlands thou'rt dress'd, 
Thou mayest still be the Pride of the Valley — 

Our city — the Queen of the West ! 

Cincinnati, O., July 4, 1888. 



THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. 

THE moon-beams, soft and mellow, 
On the snow-white tents were shed 
That in the silent valley 

And o'er the hills were spread. 
' Twas midnight, and the soldiers, 

All wearied from the fray, 
And scarr'd from many a battle, 
Within their blankets lay. 
Without, all was silence. 

Save the sentry's ceaseless tread, 
That in the still night sounded 

Like the sad knell of the dead. 



22 



A soldier in his blanket, 

And on his scant straw cast, 
Was dreaming of the future. 

Was dreaming of the past. 
He was in his native village. 

He was 'mong its joyous bands. 
He heard familiar voices^ 

And he grasped familiar hands , 
And again he felt the anguish 

Of that proud but tearful day. 
When he bade farewell to loved-ones, 
And, a soldier, marched away. 

Then he dreamed of his returning 

To the village far away, 
All crowned with vict'ry's laurels. 

And scarrM from many a fray. 
He saw the tears of welcome 

Streaming from a sister's eyes ; 
He heard a mother sobbing, 

xA.nd a sweet-heart's loving sighs ; 



THE soldier's DREAM. 23 

He saw a gray-haired father, 
In his pride and in his joy, 

Extend a hand of welcome 

To his war-scarr'd soldier boy. 

But hark ! he was awakened 

By a rude alarm without ; 
It was -the sentry's signal, 

And his comrades' battle shout. 
He seized his trusty musket, 

He heard the foemen's yell. 
He rushed into the battle, 

And among the foremost fell ! 

soldier ! when thy loved-ones 
Hear of this night so dread. 
They will see thy own name leading 
The long list of the dead ! 



HIGHLAND'S HILLS. 

INSCRIBED TO R. STANLEY MARSH. SPRINGFIELD, MO. 

IVTOT like the Alps that reach to dizzy height, 
Nor Himalayan peaks that touch the sky, 

Nor Cordilleras that reach up so high 
The eagle can not reach them in her flight ; 
Not like the Rockies with their crests of white, 

Highland Hills ! art thou, but in mine eye 

Thou art far fairer than them all ; and thy 
Fair scenery is grander in my sight ! 
Highland Hills — dear Highland Hills ! no land 

In all the world is half so fair as thee ! 
Thy fern- clad cliffs are grandest of the grand, 

Thy forests dearest in the world to me. 
I'll love no land as well where'er I roam 
As thee, Highland, for thou art my home ! 



KESME FALLS. 

INSCRIBED TO FRANCIS M. TRACY, COVINGTON, KY, 

^WEET comes the song of the Falls 
^^-^ Up o'er the steep rocky cliffs : 
Sweet — but so mournful and sad, 
Wailing and doleful, it seems 
Sighing o'er some hidden grief. 

Sweet is the song of the Falls ! 
Love we its sad doleful notes, 
Coming at even a soft 
Sweet lullaby ; while at morn 
Wakes us like shout in our dreams. 



26 KESME FALLS. 

Why is thy music so sad, 
Dear Kesme Falls ? once I asked. 
Doleful she sang for awhile, 
Fitful and wild ; then a voice 
Said : " Long ago ! long ago !" 

Why for the long, long ago 
Weeping and wailing you sing ? 
Then queried I ; but her voice 
Only could echo the wail, 
" long ago ! long ago !" 

In Camp, July, 1890. 



THE FIRST FLOWER. ^ 

/^UT of the brown earth's nurtured bed 
^"'^ She peeped her modest little head — 

The first wild flower ; 
Then shrinking 'neath a leafy blade 
It seemed as though she were afraid 

To venture more. 

But, nourished by the sun and rain, 
The little flower took heart again, 

And her fears fled. 
She banished thoughts that made her fear 
The world, then soon did upward rear 

Her modest head. 



28 THE FIRST FLOWER. 

Pure was this flower of spotless white 
When first she saw the sun-gleams' light 

As virgin snow ; 
But soon their came a treacherous frost ; 
She bent her head, died, and was lost 

To world and woe. 

She perished as her life begun 
There in the earth-bed by the sun 

Of April nursed. 
Ah ! thus it is ; the SAveetest flowers 
Live only for a few short hours, 

Then perish first. 



THE OLD FRIENDS. 

INSCRIBED TO JOSEPH J. MCCARTHY, DODSONVILLE, 0. 

T LONG- to see the old friends, to see them once again ; 
To see their boyish faces, — can they now be those of 
men ? 

Ah! some are in the South-hind, some in the far, far 
West, 

And some are in the Church-yard in their long and peace- 
ful rest. 

Oft in the dream of fancy I can see them once again : 
Some are Heaven's spirits, and some are brave strong 
men : 



30 THE OLD FRIENDS. 

And oft in soft, sweet dream-tones their words again I 

hear : 
I hear them oft in dream-shouts and sometimes think 

they're near. 

The world gives many new friends with fame and fortune 

bless'd ; 
I know their friendship is sincere, but the okl friends 

are the best. 
Ah ! Fortune is but fickle, Fame is a gaudy cheat, 
But Friendship — sweet Friendship ! — is an ever-living 

sweet ! 



THE FORESTER'S SONG. 

INSCRIBED TO EDGAR A. BROWN, COVINGTON, KY. 

T N the tangled woodland, 

In the forest deep. 
Where the wild rose blossoms 

And the ivies creep ; 
In the tangled forest, 

In a shady dell. 
In a little cottage 

There alone I dwell. 

No ! I'm never lonely— 

'Tis a cheery spot ; 
I ne'er have a trouble. 

Mine's a happy lot. 



32 THE forester's song. 

My dogs are my sole friends, 
Truest and the best, 

For they always guard me — 
Even when I rest. 

The wind is my lyrist. 

My bard is the bird, 
And I sing my own song 

By the world unheard. 
Of all happy mortals 

Living 'neath the sky, 
King or prince or peasant, 

None are gay as I. 

lu Camp, June, 3890. 



THE RIVULET. 

A A 7ITHIN a cave among the hills 

And forest's deep recesses, 
Along the slopes where daffodils 
Delight the growing grasses, 

A bubbling stream of water springs — 
A stream as clear as crystal ; 

And restless more than Fancy's wings, 
And pure as virgins vestal. 

It courses down the mountain sides, 
It tumbles o'er the ledges ; 

And thro' the valley murmuring glides 
Along the blooming hedges, 



34 THE RIVULET. 

With music soft and low it plays 
Along the woods and meadows : 

It dances in the sunny rays, 

It sings among the shadows. 

it is fair as rosy youth, 

As sweet as merry childhood ; 

And like the pure and young, forsootli. 
It loves the mead and Avildwood ! 

But clear, and pure, and fair, and sweet, 

Can thus it be forever ? 
Will unforseen corruptions meet 

The joyful brooklet never ? 

Alas for youth and happy hours ! 

Alas for merry childhood ! 
Alas the stream should leave the flowers — 

Should leave the mead and wildwood ! 

The waters thro' the meadows glide. 
In sweetest accents speaking ; 



THE RIVULET. 35 

But soon there come from ev'ry side 
The streams with foulness reeking. 

They come from cities dark with care, 

From bogs in their descending; 
They come and reach the river fair, 

And soon the streams are blending. 

Alas ! the river once so gay 

Among the woods and meadows, 

Will sport the hours no more away 
Amid the sun and'shadows. 

The brooklet deeper, darker grows 

Into a murky river. 
Till down into the sea it flows. 

And then is lost forever. 

With many lives 'tis thus — in youth 

The days are full of laughter, 
And fair and pure as spotless truth, 

And thoughtless of hereafter. 



36 THE RIVULET. 

With darker lives, they blend in time, 
As did the crystal river, 

Until within the sea of crime 

They lose themselves forever. 



IN JUNE. 

INSCRIBED TO EDWARD A. rO?S, CINCINNATI, 0. 

^npVHE budding youth of time at last is here; 

She dights herself in robes of green and gold 
And sunny rays delighting every fold 

Of Nature's garb. The valley everywhere 

Is full of balm; the dewy, languid air 

That presses round in sunny wavelets roll'd, 
Is fragrance laden coming o'er the wold; 

And this is June — the pride of all the year. 

wishest thou to feel the balmy rays, 



38 IN JUNE. 

Or breathe the sweet perfume of budding flowers ? 
And wishest thou to speed the happy days, 

Or chase with pleasure all the glowing hours ? 
Then come away ! and ramble far and near, 
For this is June — the pride of all the year ! 



THE QUEEN OF MAY. 

IT^NELT a child in deep devotion 

By a statue of the Queen, 
Where the moonlight, without motion, 

Drove the shadows from the scene; 
Where the moonbeams, softly stealing. 

Silvered bright the flowers that lay 
All around the child there kneeling 

In the chapel, dim, to pray. 

All day long her heart beat gladly. 
For thro' many happy hours. 

She searched hills and vales— oft madly 
Scaling cliffs— in search of flowers; 



40 THE QUEEN OF MAY. 

And when night still beauteous found her, 
With the garlands of the day 

Her companions, wearied, crowned her. 
Saying, "Thou art Queen of Ma}^" 

Gathering up the flowers, she hurried, 

With the wreaths still in her hair, 
To the chapel, where she buried 

All the May-day joys in prayer. 
Long she knelt there 'mid the flowers 

That profusely round her lay, 
And the minutes grew to hours, 

Still she lingered there to pray. 

She arose, and softly stealing 

Thro' the dim and mystic scene, 
She approached, and humbly kneeling 

By the statue of the Queen, 
Gathered up the flowers around her. 

And while ceasing not to pray. 
Wove them into w^reaths and crowned her, 

Saying, " Thou art Queen of May." 



THE QUEEN UF MAY. 41 

Long within the chapel kneeling 
By the statue of the Queen 

She remained, while yet the stealing- 
Moments bade her leave the scene. 

When she turned to leave it, " Never " — 
All the angels heard her say — 

'' I shall cease to love , forever 

Thou shalt be the Queen of May ! '' 



SONG, 

/"tAHE woodbine blooms within the forest deep; 

The wild rose blossoms down along the lane; 
The blooming ivies in the green woods creep: 

The lilies all have come to life again ; 
The golden-rod waves in the tender breeze ; 

The daisies blossom far across the lea; 
And all seem whispering thro' the solemn trees: 
" We bloom for thee, we all do bloom for thee ! 
Ah, yes, we bloom for thee ! " 

The robins chirrup down in yonder grove; 

The saucy black-bird swings upon the reeds; 
The sweet- voiced thrush seems but to speak of love; 



SONG. 43 

The meadow-larks are singing in the meads; 
The oriole is chanting all day long, 

And as his music floats from yonder tree, 
It seems this is the burden of his song:j 

" We sing for thee, we all do sing for thee ! 
x\h, yes; we sing for thee ! " 

Then let us go down in the forest deep, 

And let us wreathe and garland all the flowers; 
And where the myrtles bloom and ivies creep, 

There will we sit and while away the hours. 
Come then away I The birds shall sing their song, 

x\nd greet us from the top of every tree ; 
And this refrain we'll sing as we go 'long : 

'' For you and me — this is for you and me ! 
Ah, yes; for you and me ! " 



THE DYING CHILD. 

J^ MOTHER watched beside the crib 

Where lay her dying child : 
His eye shown bright with the holy light 
Of a spirit undefiled. 

As the mother watched beside the crib 
Where the little sufferer lay, 

She knew that Death with his icy breath 
Would steal him soon away. 



THE DYING CHILD. 45 

He saw his mother bending o'er, 

He heard her stifled cry ; 
Then soft and low these words spoke slow, 

" 0, mamma, must I die ? " 

" Then, mamma, do not weep," said he, 
" We will meet again in Heaven." 

And his voice grew still, his hand grew chill — 
Life's slender chain was riven ! 

Earth's child had gone, his soul had flown, 

'Twas o'er, 'twas o'er at last : 
The mother staid by the dead and prayed 

Till the hours of night were past. 



THE SMITHY. 

INSCRIBED TO TIMOTHY J. GANNON, CINCINNATI, 0. 



B 



LOW : Blow : Blow : 

list to the bellows blowing. 
Fanning the coals softly glowing I 
While the blacksmith stands. 
With his brawny hands. 
W^atching the metal glowing and bright. 

Ready to grasp 'tween the jaws of his tongs 
When the heat in the forge has turned it to white, 
While he gaily sings his favorite songs. 



THE SMITHY. 47 

gaily he sin^s, 

And the sledge that he swings 

Is beating the time 

To his tuneful rhyme, 

Merrily ! 

Merrily ! 

Ding ! Ding ! Ding ! 
list to the song. of the metal ! 
list to the din and the rattle, 
As the smith's hammer beats 
'Gainst the iron mass and sheets, 
While the sparks fly away at every blow, 

Filling the smithy with flakets of light, 
Like the world is fill'd when the soft-falling snow 
Spreads o'er the land her mantle of white. 
gaily he swings 
His sledge as he sings. 
Beating the time 
To his musical rhyme 



48 THE SMITHY. 

Cheerily, 
Cheerily ! 

Clang ! Clang I Clang ! 
list to the anvil ringing ! 
list to the blacksmith singing 
His merry song 
The whole day long, 
As his hammer falls on the shapeless steel, 

Welding and beating and turning to form, 
Beating it tho' it never can feel, 

Like the wild sea is beat at the will of the storm. 
() gaily he sings. 
And the sledge that he swings 
Is beating the time 
To his tuneful rhyme. 
Merrily, 
Merrily I 



A STORM AT SEA. 

INSCRIBED TO J. A. MCVEIGH, COVINGTON, KY. 

>nr^HE sea was calm when came the close of day : 

The wind had ceased ; the waves had gone 
to sleep ; 
And the long billows rolling far away 
Were their breast-heavings ; o'er the peaceful deep 
The dark, the solemn night began to creep. 
Like a lone sea-gull weary of her flight, 
Or like an eagle from the rocky steep, 
Poised on her'wings far off from native height, 
A ship with snowy sails was drifting thro' the night. 



50 A STORM AT SEA. 

The worn and weary crew had sunk to rest. 
And in their dreams again were they returned 
To that loved spot within the far off West — 
Love-sacred land! — where glowing heart-fires hurn'd. 
And ardent souls for absent loved-ones yearned. 
Ah ! how their eyes grew lustrous when the store. 
In many a long and weary voyage earned. 
Of golden ingots they spread out before 
Those wond'ring eyes, and vowed to sail the seas no more • 

But hark I a rude alarm awakes them from their sleep : 

A thunder peal a loud and deafning crash. 

They spring on deck, and looking o'er the deep, 
They see the mountain billows : feel them- dash 
With giant fury 'gainst the barque : a flash 
Of vivid lightning lights the ghastly waves: 
They hear them shriek, they hear them wildly lash 
Against the side : and in the ocean caves. 
Bared by the yawning sea, behold their graves. 

A peal — a flash — the storm-cloud bursts o'er head. 



A STORM AT SEA. 51 

And thro' its rifted heart, upon the deep 
The tempest falls in fury ; fear and dread 
Possess the stoutest hearts : the fierce winds sweep 
Across the tattered sails ; the billows leap 
In furious rage above the top-most mast. 
And hanging o'er like mountain's rugged steep, 
Heaped higher still by each succeeding blast, 
A moment on the frail barque frown, then sweep apast. 

As though transfixed the crew a moment stand 
Viewing with glassy eyes the scene of woe. 
Where is the gold earned by thy toil-scarred hand, 
sailor, now ? Will not its luring glow 
Avail theeaught in this dread moment? No ! 
Then fling it to the greedy waves beneath ! 
And pray, and toil until thy blood-streams flow 
From bruised hands and limbs ! work till thy breath 
Can utter cry nor prayer — yea, even unto death ! 

Ah, vain and hopeless task ! a mighty wave. 
Foam-capped and steep came rolling o'er the seas, 



52 A STORM AT SEA. 

x\nd bore upon the barque's devoted brave. 
A prayer — a curse arose : might curse appease 
A billows wrath in the Hesperides ? 
The wave looked on them with a dark'ning frown. 
Then struck with strength of countless Hercules, 
And seized them in its grasp; then reeling round, 
'Mid prayer, and groan, and black despair, the ship went 
down. 

Upon the sea the morning dawned serene ; 
No fearful storm-cloud darked the azure sky ; 
And o'er the vast deep ocean nought was seen 
Save but the sea-gulls skimming swiftly by. 
And nought was heard save their wild shrieking cry. 
The barque — where Avas it? Ask the greedy main. 
And thou, () sailor, long shall loved-ones sigh, 
And watch, and pray to see thee once again. 
But they shall watch, and yearn, and pray for thee in 
vain ! 



A GOLDEN DEED. 

AN OLD TlIOU*(iHT PUT IN VERSE, 

/^NE pound of gold drawn in a thread 

Will gird the earth and glitter still 
So one kind act — one golden deed — 
Tho' done in early life, it will 

Shine thro' its days ; and when the night 

Of its departing years has come, 
'Twill glitter still, and it will light 
The journey to a peaceful tomb. 



54 A GOLDEN DEED. 

And more : that single deed will gleam 
Across the land and o'er the sea, 

Thro' ages, and its'brightest beam 
Will glitter in eternity ! 



CAMP SONG. 

INSCRIBED TO OTTO DIECKMANN, CINCINNATI, 0. 

Multos castra juvant. 

— HORACE, 

AA TE are six jolly students. 

Our hearts are blithe and gay, 
All j ust set free from study, 

No cares beset our way. 
We pick upon our banjo. 

Our merry songs we sing, 
We saw upon our fiddles 

And make the forest ring. 



"^^ t'AMP SUNG. 



We are six jolly students, 

Our camp is on the hill, 
Beneath a giant oak-tree 

Deep in the forest still. 
We boat down on the river, 

We angle in the lake: 
O we're six jolly students 

All out for fun's sweet sake 

In Camp, June, 1890. 



THE SCHOOL-BOY'S DREAM. 

I. 

^ I ^HE baffled boy his desk leaned o'er ; 

His fingers clutched his hair; 
His feet moved restless on the floor ; 
He'd tried that sum till his brain was sore ; 
" Will't remain unsolved forevermore ? " 

He asked in wild despair. 
" I wish," he said, " some fairy sprite, 

Like they did long years ago, 
In her fauzy dress of virgin white, 
Would come to me in her rapid flight, 



58 THE school-boy's dream. 

Would guide my stubborn pencil right, 
And get this problem so." 

II 

The wish had scarcel}^ reached his mind, 

When a chariot of gold. 
With gems of wondrous brightness lined, 
By winged steeds drawn upon the wind. 
With a train of courtiers behind. 

O'er the school -boy's shoulder roll'd ; 
And then with footsteps airy light, 

With a crown upon her head, 
Forth from the chariot stepped a sprite. 
Clothed in zephry gauzes white, 
With a countenance so strangely bright. 

Who in tones like music said : 

III 
" Your wish for a fairy I have heard ; 
Your troubles I have seen ; -> 
I listened to your wishing word. 



59 



And, swifter flying than the bird, 

I've reached here e'er a leaf has stirr'd — 

I am the Fairy Queen. 
Give me a pencil and your slate 

And / will solve the sum ; 
Come, be quick, 'tis getting late ; 
See ! my steeds impatient wait ! " 
The pencil clicked at such a rate 

It seemed a continued hum. 

IV. 
'^'Tis done," the fairy spirit cried ; 

" I've solved the troubling sum ; 
This wish of yours I've not denied. 
Now, w^hat else ? " The school-boy sighed, 
"Another problem I have tried, 

But the answer will not come." 
" I will not solve this sum," said she. 

And smiled ; " for if I do, 
There will be more to solve. But see ! 
I must be off — they beckon me ; 



60 THE school-boy's DREAM. 

But I'll leave this magic slate with thee, 
And a magic pencil, too." 

V. 

The school-boy bowing to the sprite, 

The slate took from her hand ; 
The fairy then with footsteps light 
Bounded to the chariot bright, 
And instantly she took her flight 

For the wondrous fairy-land. 
The pencil swift the slate flew o'er, 

Like fairy's gliding feet ; 
He solved the problems, two, three, four. 
And as nimble grew his fingers more. 
He felt his brain no longer sore, 

And the lesson was complete ! 

VI. 

He paused ; his teacher's eyes he met ; 

And then he heard him say : 
"Ben, have you solved that problem yet?" 



61 



He rubbed his eyes and began to sweat : 
" Yes — no — yes, — it I did get, 

But now 'tis swept away ! " 
At his slate he looks in wild surprise ; 

His eyes no longer beam ; 
" I surely solved this sum," he cries ; 
" Now where can be my magic prize ? " 
He rubs his hand across his eyes — 

It all has been a dream ! 

VII. 

'^Ben," then the teacher said, " it seems 

That you have been asleep. 
Why should you waste in idle dreams 
The day so lit by sunny gleams ? 
Lest you work while shine Youth's brightest 
beams. 

What harvest will you reap ? " 
The school-boy seized his slate again , 

He asked no fairy's aid ; 



62 



He went to work with vigor then, 
And when the teacher asked him, " Ben, 
Have you solved out number ten ? " 
'• My task is done," he said. 



A VACATION REVERIE. 

INSCKIBED TO SIMON A. BALDUS, CINCINNATI, 0. 

tJANGING o'er the glassy river, like a dark and 

gloomy wall. 
Stands the Giant Rock — a mountain rising up so strong 

and tall 

That it seems a dismal prison ; but it can not stay the 

flow 
Of the music that arises from the river far below. 

There are trees and fragrant flowers on the mountain's 
rocky crest ; 



64 A VACATION REVERIE. 

There are pale and straggling sunbeams far reflected from 
the West : 

Sunbeams that are fading slowly in the purple western 

sky, 
Shrinking from the eastern hill-tops, for the even draw- 

eth nigh. 

'Tis an evening full of beauty, tho' the heavens now so 
bright, 

Late were filled with fearful storm-clouds, dark. and dis- 
mal as the night. 

They have pass'd , the clouds are sinking in the distant 

eastern sky, 
While the heavens' purple deepens as the twilight draw^- 

eth nigh. 

I am floating down the river all alone within a skiff, 
And I linger for a moment just beneath the rocky clifi*. 

Overhead the giant mountain lifts its dismal, gloomy 
form, 



A VACATION REVERIE. 65 

Scorning like a frowning monster works of ages and of 
storm ; 

While above, the gaudy goldfinch sings a song so sweet 

and fair 
That it seems to praise the woodbine as it breathes its 

fragrance rare. 

I have floated down the river, just below the rocky cliff". 
Where the river banks rise gently; here I moor my little 
skiff", 

And I toil far up the mountain, springing oft from rock 

to ledge, 
Till at last I reach the summit ; here upon the very edge 

Of the Giant Rock I linger, list'ning to the fitful flow 
Of the music that arises from the valley far below. 

I was weary ; so I settled in a quaint old rustic seat. 
Clung around with blooming woodbine, breathing fra- 
grance rare and sweet, 



66 A VACATION REVERIE. 

While beneath my feet a carpet stretched in tangled mass 

around^ 
Covering up with creeping ivy all the damp and mellow 

ground. 

Overhead the arching branches, with the clinging vines 
entwined, 

Formed a dome, while bright the ceiling with the fra- 
grant rose was lined. 

Thro' an opening stole a sunbeam, looking as a sheet of 

gold, 
Like the pathway of the fairies, that, 'tis said, dwelt 

here of old. 

Ay, if ever there were fairies, sprites with fabled graces 
sweet. 

Sure they chose their regal palace in this fragrance- 
strewn retreat ! 

"See, he sleepetli," came a whisper that fell softly on my 
ears, 



A VACATION REVERIE. 67 

Like a dream-tone of the angels, like the music of the 
Spheres. 

'Twas a rose that spake. "He sleepeth ; wake him not,'' 

another said ; 
" Wake him not for he is weary," and she gently drooped 

her head, 

Shaking off a shower of dew-drops that were gathering 

on her bloom, 
Breathing rapture in the cloister from the sweets of her 

perfume. 

'' He is weary," spake the woodbine, " and has sought 

us here to rest ; 
We shall not disturb his slumbers till the sun sinks in 

the West." 

" He is weary," spake the ivy, leaping up to kiss my feet, 
'^ I shall only touch him gently while he stays in our re- 
treat." 

" He is weary," spake the oak-tree, as the wind sighed 
thro' his boughs ; 



68 A VACATION REVERIE. 

"I shall guard him lest a dew-shower shall descend upon 
his brows." 

"" He is weary," spake the goldfinch, " I will sing him 

music low." 
" He is weary," spake the river, and it sang ot long ago. 

Scarcely had they finished speaking when the forests 

caught the sound. 
And they echoed," Weary ! weary ! " o*er the hills and 

far around. 

" I remember," spake the oak-tree, ^'^in the years of 
long ago. 

How the Red men came to visit us when bowed in deep- 
est woe." 

'' I remember," spake the ivy, " how the chiefs came 

here of old 
To consult, in secret council, on some expedition bold." 

"I remember," said the wild rose, "how this was a 
trysting-place, 



A VACATION REVERIE. by 

In the years long past, for lovers of the dark and savage 
race." 

"I remember," said the woodbine, as the breezes shook 
her leaves, 

" How I sheltered from the savage many fleeing fugi- 
tives." 

" I remember," said the river, in the valley far below, 
" How the cruel savage warriors, in the years of long 
ago, 

" Met in fierce and bloody battle on my banks, within 

the wood, 
And they dyed my placid waters with the crimson of 

their blood." 

" I remember," said the goldfinch, " my forefathers 

used to tell 
How the last one of the Red men bade this loved spot 

farewell , 

'' How he left it, looking backward, like he fain would 
ne'er depart, 



70 A VACATION REVERIE. 

How he left, his head bowed sadly, like the parting 
broke his heart." 

Scarcely had she finished speaking when the forests 

caught the sound. 
And they echoed, " Sadly ! sadly ! " o'er the hills and 

far around. 

" how sad the lot of mortals ! " said the oak in accents 

low ; 
" First they see a day of pleasure, then there comes a 

year of woe." 

"0 how sad the lot of mortals!" said the woodbine 

with a sigh , 
" They have scarcely aught but sorrow till they lay them 

down and die." 

" how sad the lot of mortals ! " sang the goldfinch in 

her nest ; 
" They have toil and care unceasing — always toil and 

never rest." 



A VACATION EEVERIE. 71 

" how sad the lot of mortals ! " said the ivy's tiny 

bloom ; 
" They have never rest from labor till I creep around 

their tomb." 

'' how sad the lot of mortals ! " then the wild rose 

sadly said ; 
'' They have never-ceasing sorrow^ till I bloom above 

their dead." 

Scarcely had she finished speaking when the forests 

caught the sound, 
And they echoed, " Sorrow ! sorrow ! " o'er the hills and 

far around. 

" Hush ! " the river whispered, pausing in her song of 

long ago ; 
" What know ye of human sorrow ? What know ye of 

human woe ? 

" I have sung my song for mortals ever since the world 
was born ; 



72 A VACATION KEVERIE. 

Sing it gaily in the even as I sang it in the morn ; 

'^ And thro' all the years and ages since my waves began 

to roll, 
I have studied men and women — I have studied heart 

and soul. 

•' I have learned my lessons faithful ; I have conned them 

o'er and o'er, 
And I know the long-lost secrets of the world's forgotten 

lore ; 

" But I've learned this grander secret: man is rendered 

Sorrow's slave 
To befit him for the glories of the world beyond the 

grave." 

Scarcely had she finished speaking when the forests caught 

the sound, 
And they echoed : " Glories ! glories ! " o'er the hills 

and far around. 

Then the wild rose and the ivy and the w^oodbine and the 
oak 



A VACATION EEVERIE. 73 

And the goldfinch in the treetop all as in one accent 
spoke : 

" It is true ! " and then the woodbine, when they all had 

ceased to speak, 
As the breezes touched her blossoms, sighed and gently 

kiss'd my cheek. 

Then the tall, strong oak above me softly waved his 

arching boughs, 
And the dew-drops, stealing thro' them, fell upon my 

feverish brows. 

I was startled from my slumber as the goldfinch in her 

nest 
Sang, " Awake ! for all the sunbeams now have vanished 

in the West ! " 

I walked softly o'er the ivy to the mountain's very edge. 
And I stood there in the twilight on a narrow little 
ledge. 

Far below there flowed the river, while its music sweet 
and low * 



74 A VACATION REVERIE. 

Rose in spells both wild and fitful as it sang of long ago ; 

And beyond, the fertile valley stretched in meadows far 

away, 
Till they met the western mountain&in the distance dim 

and gray. 

In the West the red and purple tinged with beauty all 

the sky, 
Like the red-light of a tableau, still reflecting far on 

high. 

Then the western glories vanished; and the thunder 

broke the seal 
Of his silence, and he echoed thro' the sky in one long 

peal. 

Till it seemed that all the spirits of the other world were 
near. 

And they seemed to stamp their plaudits in one long- 
continued cheer ! 



SWEET AND LOW. 



INSCRIBED TO ADOLPH G. F. BADER, CINCINJJATI, 0. 



" Sweet and low, sweet and low, 
Wind of the western sea." 



OW. 



O WEET and 1 

Sweet and low, 

Over the grassy lea 
Cometh the wind at bre^k of day — 

Cometh to you and me ; 
Fresh with the scent of the fragrant hay, 
Bringing the gifts of the new-blown flowers 



76 SWEET AND LOAV. 



Fraught with the deAY of night's still hours,- 

Sweet and low, 

Sweet and low, 

Over the grassy lea. 

Over the mead where the daisies grow, 

Cometh to you and me. 

Sweet and low, 
Sweet and low. 
Out of the forest deep 
Cometh the wind at noon of day — 
Cometh from wood asleep, 
Where the great old oaks so grand and gray 
Bow and nod at the will of the breeze — 
who can read the dreams of the trees ? 
Bringing the cool of the forest's shade, 
Bearing the scent of the rose-fraught glade. 
Sweet and low. 
Sweet and Ioav, 
Out of the forest deep 



SWEET AND LOW. 77 

Cometh so languid, soft and slow, 
Cometh from wood asleep. 

Sweet and low. 
Sweet and low, 
Up from the crystal stream 
Cometh the wind at eventide. 

When the glowing fire-flies gleam ; 
While clinging e'er like a loving bride 
The voice of the falls is brought along, 
As she doleful sings her ceaseless song. 
Sweet and low. 
Sweet and low, 
Cometh, when fire-flies gleam. 
The wind and his bride from far below. 
Up from the cr^^stal stream. 

Sweet and low, 
Sweet and low, 
Out of the tangled wild 
Cometh the wind at dead of night 



T8 SWEET AND LOW. 

Like the wail of a long lost child ! 
Coming at times like a voice of fright, 
Oft as deep as the organ's swell, 
Sad as the notes of a funeral knell, 
Sweet and low. 
Sweet and low, 
Out of the tangled wild. 
Weeping and sighing the night winds blow 
Like the wail of a long lost child ! 



THE KINGDOM AND ITS QUEEN. 
I. 

"V A THEN fair Columbia was young, 

Proud mother of a people blest, 
Out of the land a kingdom sprung — 

The Kingdom of the West. 
It stretched from the Atlantic's strands 
To far Pacific's golden sands. 
The fertile valleys, boundless plain, 
And mountains were in its domain. 
The fruits of many climes it bore; 



80 THE KINGDOM AND ITS QUEEN. 

Its fields were rich with ages' loam ; 
A varied fauna wandered o'er 

Its plains, and called this land its home. 
No kingdom e'er 
Had fields so fair, 
No land with sunnier climes was blest, 
Nor mountains bore 
A richer store 
Than this proud Kingdom of the West ! 

II. 

When Freedom's Mother saw the land 

From ocean stretched to ocean shore, 
Up rose in sacred oath her hand — 

" 'Tis mine, by right 'tis mine ! " she swore. 
" No other hand its fields can bless 
Nor turn to fruit its wilderness — 

'Tis mine forevermore ! 
What land can reach distinction's goal 
Unless inspired by Freedom's soul ? " 



THE KINGDOM AND ITS QUEEN. 
III. 

Then Freedom's Mother stretched her hand 

In benediction o'er the hmd: 

The deserts bloomed; the boundless plain 

Was filled with waving, golden grain ; 

The cry of savage lips was stilled, 

An'l Plenty's horn was more than filled ; 

Columbia's flag from sea to sea 

In peace waved o'er the fleur-de-lis. 

IV. 

Columbia smiled; '' A land," she said, 
" To make its greatness manifest, 
Must needs— if it be truly blest— 

A sovereign who through time's decade 
Will still in beauty's garb be dress'd. 

0, tell me, World, a worthy maid 

To rule the Kingdon of the West ! " 

V. 

Then came a deep voice echoing long 
From Hebrides to far Niphon — 



81 



82 THE KINGDOM AND ITS QUEEN, 

A voice, it seemed, so full and strong 

Ten million spake in unison. 
" Look thou into the West," it said. 
'' There dwells among the hills a maid 
In all the charms ol beauty dressed ; 
No Helen e'er 
Was half so fair ; 
Let her be Sovereign ol the West ! " 

YI. 

Columbia heard ; then straightway wove 

From all the blessings of the land, 
From valley gleaned, from mead and grove, 
A crown ; and with her own fair hand 
Placed it on Cincinnati's head, 
And while the world applauded, said : 
" maid, with countless graces blest, 
Thy kingdom's graces manifest, 
For thou shalt be Queen of the West ! " 



M 



ODE TO MAECENAS. 

TRANSLATED FROxM HORACE. 

im /. AECENAS, thou of royal parents born, 

And who for me the sweet shield long hast 
worn. 
Some men delight in chariots to roll 
Along, collect Olympian dust, the goal 
With glowing wheels evade, and down 
From gods immortal draw the laureate crown. 
Some one, perhaps, the fickle Romans praise. 
And lauding to the highest honors raise. 



84 ODE TO MAECENAS. 

Another one his golden harvest stores 

And sweeps the grain from Libyan threshing-floors. 

But him who loves to ply his hoe and spade 

No gold of Attains can e'er persuade 

To quit his fields, and in a Cyprian barque, 

A timid seaman, sail the ocean dark. 

The fearing merchant, when the Afric raves, 

Icaria lashing with the foaming waves. 

In ease delights ; but fearful of the reign 

Of want, his shattered barque refits again. 

Some men delight their troubles to resign 

And drown all care in cups of Massic wine, 

Beneath the arbute stretched in idle dream, 

Or at the murmuring fount of sacred stream. 

Some love the camp, and clarion's music clear 

With trumpet's mixed, and wars which mothers 

fear. 
The hunter, heedless of his tender spouse, 
Remains beneath Jove's frowning, frigid brows ; 
For either stag the faithful hounds have met. 
Or Marsian boar has broken from his net. 



ODE TO MAECENAS. 85 

The iv.y-wreath — a crown for learning's brow — 
Exalts me to the gods ; in cool groves now 
The nymphs and sat^^rs revel, from the throng 
Disjoining me, if sweet Euterpe's song 
Is silenced not, or Polyhjannia's lyre 
Still breathes its notes with tender love afire. 
But should my lyrics win the laurel crown, 
Then e'en the stars will echo my renown ! 



THE FUNERAL OF THE ROSES. 

Ji LITTLE child stood under ;i tree 

As the Autumn winds sighed mournfully, 
And the withered leaves were tossed around 
To find a pillow upon the ground ; 
While lying near on the earth were spread 
Bunches of roses withered and dead. 

Her childish heart had been touched with woe 
When she saw the roses drooping low. 



THE FUNERAL OF THE EOSES. 87 

She gathered them up and weeping she 
Gently buried them under the tree. 
Under the leaves she put them to sleep — 
Under the leaves she buried them deep. 

Gently she placed each rose in its bed, 
There to sleep the sweet sleep of the dead : 
Ever to sleep there, never to wake, 
To never again see morning break ; 
Laying them under the leaves to sleep, 
Bury them deep, child, bury them deep ! 

Bury the roses under the tree 

As the north wind wails so mournfully ! 

Bury them under the withered grass. 

That none might disturb them as they pass 1 

Under the dead leaves lay them to sleep — 

Bury them deep, child, bury them deep ! 

Child, with thy simple and tender heart, 
Grieving that thou with the roses must part. 



88 THE FUNERAL OF THE ROSES. 

Didst think how many a sad, sad thought 
In many a mind thy deed hath wrought? 
Didst see how many an eye did weep 
When thou didst bury the roses deep ? 



THE SILLY LITTLE BIRD. 

T^ OUR downy birds with laughing eyes 

Dwelt in a little nest; 
They had no thoughts of worldly care, 

And they were truly blest. 
A leafy twig o'erhanging them, 

Concealed them from the sun ; 
And of these little downy birds 

All were content save one. 



90 THE SILLY LITTLE BIRD. 

This little bird, one sunny day 

When he was five days old, 
Grew discontent and tired of home ; 

And soon he grew so bold 
That to his sister birds he said : 

" I'm tired of home ; sure I, 
Since I am now 'most one week old. 

Am big enough to fly. 

" See, yonder on that clover bloom 

Is a little bumble-bee ; 
He's not so big as I ; I'm sure 

I'll do as well as he. 
See what a tiny thing he is, 

And oh ! how he can fly ! 
I'm sure I'll do as well as he : 

At any rate I'll try." 

'' brother," then the sisters cried ; 

" You know you cannot fly ; 
You know that you are still too young- 



THE SILLY LITTLE BIRD. 91 

Dear brother, do not try ! " 
In vain they tried to hold him back — 

Vain, though they did their best; 
For, while they spoke, the naughty bird 

Climbed out of the little nest. 

Alas, poor little bird ! he crawled 

Out on a twig to fly ; 
He then looked down upon the ground, 

And oh ! it looked so high ! 
'*0 don't! don't ! " his sisters cried ; 

" Dear brother, do not try ! " 
He took no heed but only said, 

" Now watch me and I'll fly." 

Alas, poor little silly bird ! 

For, as these words he said. 
He fell far down upon the ground 

And crushed his little head ! 
The sister birds looked out the nest, 

Down o'er the twiggy side ; 



92 THE SILLY LITTLE BIRD. 

" Poor little brother ! " then they said, 
And bowed their heads and cried. 

The mamma of the birds came home ; 

The poor dead bird she found ; 
She buried him beneath a flower 

Deep in the cold damp ground ! 
Then flew up to the little nest, 

And when the tale she heard, 
She raised a slab and thus she wrote : 

Here lies poor little bird. 

When the papa bird came home and heard 

The tale, he did erase 
From ofi" the slab the one word, poor, 

And wrote silly in its place. 
Now all you children who have homes. 

And who this story heard. 
Be careful that you do not act 

As this poor silly bird. 



FESTAL ODE TO OUR RECTOE* 

A A 7ITH our hearts full of gladness we greet thee ; 

Thy feast-day we welcome ; and now 
We come our love-tokens to give thee, 

And with love-wreaths to laurel thy brow. 
There is music to make the day gladsome ; 

There are wishes it happy may be ; 
There are prayers that the sweet gifts of heaven 

May be lavishly showered on thee — 

Like the soft dew of heaven on thee. 



94 FESTAL ODE TO OUR RECTOR. 

There's an ancient and beautiful legend 
In Devotion's heart-caskets enshrined, 

Wreathed around with the flowers of Religion, 
With the garlands of Faith intertwined. 

It tells how the pure, spotless Virgin — 
The fairest of creatures was she — 

In homage bowed down in the temple 

To her God said : " To Thee and lor Thee, 
All, all that I have is for Thee ! " 

The scribe, when he heard the fair Virgin 

Breathe forth to her spouse this sweet vow. 
While she knelt there so meek and so humble 

With the glory of God on her brow- 
Untaught by the wisdom of Heaven 

Such love greatly marveled to see; 
But he felt that the angels were present, 

And he whispered : " Dear Master, to Thee- 
Let her life be devoted to Thee ! " 

The psalm in the distance was chanted ; 



FESTAL ODE TO OUR RECTOR. 95 

Thro' the temple the long echoes roll'd ; 
The sweet incense rose upward to Heaven 

Jn odorous cloudlets and told 
That a sacrifice, earnest and pleasing. 

Was offered to Heaven when she 
In the sanctified gloom of the temple 

Whispered softly ; '' To Thee and for Thee— 
- Dear God, all I have is for Thee !" 

'Tis the eve of a beautiful feast-day, 

And memories awake in our breast 
Of chastity, meekness, submission, 

That like gems in her coronet rest. 
Then we hail this a moment propitious, 

And come with our greetings to thee, 
Who hast vowed like the pure Virgin Priestess, 

" All, all that I ever will be 

Dear God is devoted to Thee ! " 

The best years of thy life have been given 
To the care and the training ot youth 
In the way of religion and wisdom — 



96 FESTAL ODE TO OUR HECTOR. 

In the way of devotion and truth. 
And we, who have had the rich blessing 

Long under thy guidance to be, 
Bring our flowers of esteem and affection 

And our garlands of thanks unto thee- 

Our esteem and affection to thee. 

Then accept, belov'd Father, these tokens, 
For thy honor and Mary's above. 

All bright with the glow of devotion — 
All steeped in the sweet dew of love. 

And again do we greet thee with wishes 
That gladsome thy feast-day may be. 

And we pray that the blessings of Heaven 
Many feast-days may send unto thee— 
Many glad, joyous feast-days to thee ! 

St. Xavier College, Feb. 1, 1890. 



FEA8T-DAY ADDRESS TO OUR RECTOR. 

"\ A TE greet thee, Dear Father, with hearts all aglow, 
And come with our flowers plucked from 
meadow and grove, 
And our love-tokens bring our affection to show 
On this beautiful feast of the Mother of Love. 

sweet breathe the roses far over the lea, 

And starr'd is the wild with the bright golden-rod ! 

But sweeter by far may our love-garlands be 
On the beautiful feast of the Mother of God. 



98 FEAST-DAY ADDRESS TO OUR RECTOR. 

Our garlands are made of the lilies of love ; 

The blue-bells of song and of music are there, 
With roses of gladness and joy interwove, 

And all intertwined with the ivies of prayer. 

And now, while we come with our garlands all fraught 
With the fragrance of love our affection to shoW 

There comes to our minds with each loving thought 
The sweet story told of the long, long ago. 

The story brought down from a far-away age, 

Over seas Avide and wild — from far Palestine, 

And written in splendor on many a page— 
The story it is of the sweet Virgin Queen. 

Thou hast heard it — and I — and all the vast world 
Wherever the foot of Apostle has trod. 

Wherever the banner of Christ is unfurled — 
The story of Mary, the Mother of God. 



FEAST-DAY ADDRESS TO OUR RECTOR. 99 

The temple dim-lit with sweet incense was fraught, 

Filling it all with an odorous flood ; 
While far down the aisle as if raptured in thought. 

The priest in his robes at the high altar stood. 

There came a fair virgin ; her face wore a smile 
No angel could wear : a look so divine 

A lustre lit up the long shadowy aisle 

As she stole softly down to Purity's Shrine. 

She knelt ; and an anthem was sung far away 

In the dim, gloomy distance : its mellow notes roll'd 

Thro' the temple like waves when the West-breezes play 
On waters agleam with the sinking sun's gold. 

Then all became silent : no breath nor a sound 
An echo disturbed, until there by the Shrine 

The Virgin these words in her pure spirit found, 

And whispered, "Dear God, I am Thine — I am 
Thine ! " 



100 FEAST-DAY ADDRESS TO OUR RECTOR. 

'Tis a beautiful feast-day : 'tis Mary's — and thine. 
Dear Father, for thou, too, hast trod 

The Temple's long aisle and at Purity's Shrine 
The words of the Virgin repeated to God. 

Accept then, Dear Father, our garlands of love. 
Our lilies, our roses, our fair golden-rod. 

Which we offer thee now our affection to prove 
On this beautiful feast of the Mother of God ! 

St. Xavier College. 



ST. MARTIN'S DAY. 

T T was a bleak November day, the winds were shriek- 
ing high. 

The heav}^ storm-clouds, drooping low, enveloped all 
the sky ; 

A beggar in the city's gate stretched forth his empty 
palms, 

And in the holy name of God begged passers-by for 
alms. 



102 ST. maktin's day 

The soldier, Martin, pass'd that way ; he saw the beggar 

there 
A-shivering in the rain and cold, and heard his pale lips 

prayer : 
Soul-touched, from out its scabbard then his glittering 

sword he drew, 
He took his mantle from his back and severed it in two. 

He cast one half the mantle to the beggar by his side, 
And as he flung the other part his shoulders o'er he 

cried : 
" 'Tis all I have to give thee now ; but better far than 

gold 
This half my cloak will be to thee against the rain and 

cold ! " 

He gently wrapped the mantle round the beggar's pal- 
sied form, 

When lo ! the starving beggar saw a vision thro' the 
storm : 

Upon the wild and stormy skies, around and far above. 



ST. MAETIN's DAT. 103 

He saw the glories of that deed of charity and love. 

The shivering beggar then forgot that he was numb and 

'cold, 
Forgot that he was hungry wrapt in the mantle's fold. 
Now, when in bleak November month there comes a 

warm,, bright day, 
The Northern peasants cry, " St. Martin's coming down 

this way ! " 



AI^OVEMBERELEGY. 

C;;< UMMER has fled, 

Its joys have pass'd ; 
The Month of the dead 
Is here at last. 
The cricket still sings upon the hearth, 
But he sings no more a song of mirth : 

From his quaint, shrill voice all joy has fled 
And as he chirrups his ceaseless strain, 
It seems that it bears this sweet refrain : 
Pray for the dead — pray for the dead ! 



A NOVExAIBER ELEGY. 105 

In the church-yaril still 

The naked trees 
Bow at the will 

Of the jjassing breeze. 
The wailing wind from the north that blows, 
A sad dirge sings 'mong the naked boughs — 

A dirge for the many souls that have fled. 
The trees bow down as the cold blast brings 
This sad refrain on its northern wings, 

Pray for the dead— pray for the dead ! 

In those sacred grounds 
Devout ones weep, 
And kneel by the mounds 
Where loved-ones sleep. 
They pray and they shed full many a tear — 
As they kneel by mounds of those most dear— 
For the darling ones whose souls have fled. 
Ah ! long in that sacred place they stay, 
And obey the winds that passing say, 

Pray for the dead—pray for the dead ! 



106 A NOVEMBER ELEGY. 

In a chapel dim 

Devout ones stay 
And pray to Him — 

For loved-ones pray ! 
And as they kneel in the chapel dim. 
They send up their words of love to Him, 

And beg sweet rest for the souls that have fled 
And the hidden Christ who is ever near, 
Tenderly whispers in each one's ear, 

Pray for the dead — pray for the dead I 



MAY JOY BE THINE. 

A SONG. 

/^H ! how our hearts with gladness beat, 

Our bosoms swell with fondest love. 
As come we here with tokens SAveet — 

Each one a little treasure-trove. 
Our tokens bear affection's seal, 

They bind us with love's golden chain , 
And as we sing the thoughts we feel 



108 MAY JOY BE THINE. 

Our music bears this sweet refrain : 
Ojoy! 
sweetest joy, 
^ joy^ ^^ joy be thine I 
May ne'er a grief thy heart employ, 
But sweetest joy be ever thine! 

let our song be one love, 

No alien thought can e'er alloy. 
But let its notes be interwove 

With those of purest, sweetest joy. 
let us then our tokens bring, 

They bind us with love's golden chain 
And as our songs we gaily sing. 

Their music bears this sweet refrain : 
Ojoy! 
sweetest joy, 
joy, joy be thine ! 
May ne'er a grief thy heart employ. 
But sweetest joy be ever thine ! 



THE GOLDEN JUBILEE. * 



Linguis animisque favel. 

— OUR MOTTO. 



A A THEN Cincinnati, long ago, 

A muid in youthful garb was dressed, 
AVhen first her brow wore beauty's glow, 
Columbia, bv Freedom sent 



■■■■ Read at the jubilee celebration of the Philopa^diau Society, of 
St. Xavier College, held at the Odeon, Feb. 25, 1891. 



110 THE GOLDEN JUBILEE. 

As guardian pf the Occident, 

B}^ word and deed 

Afar decreed 
That none was e'er so bounteous blest. 
And crowned the maid Queen of the West. 

II. 

The gems that sparkle in her crown 
Reflect afar her fair renown : 
There shine the gems of Industry, 
Of Wisdom, Thrift, Prosperity ; 
But tho' their rays reflect afar, 
And shine as bright as morning star, 
St. Xavier's is the brightest gem 
That glitters in her diadem I 

III. 

While yet the Queen a maiden blushed 
In robes of new-made royalty, 

Up sprang the Philopsedians, flushed ^ 
With patriot's zeal and chivalry ; 



THE GOLDEN JUBILEE. Ill 

Then, bowing low befoje the throne, 

Un bended knees 

Unfurled their banner to the breeze, 
Unsheathed their glittering swords that shone 
Resplendent in St. Xavier's sheen, 
And swore allegiance to the Queen. 

IV. 

Then forth the Soverign stretched her hand 

And published this decree : 
" Arise : be loyal to our land- — 

Thou shalt my guard of honor be ! " 

V. 

Forth went the knights — a noble band — 

To duty in the ways of life : 
Some made the canons of the land ; 

Some drew the sword in country's strife ; 
Some, urged by loyal duty, flew 

To South to North, to West and East ; 



112 THE GOLDEN JUBILEE. 

While others bade the world adieu, 

And donned the cassock of the priest. 

VI. 

noble guard ! tho' thou hast trod 

Life's many ways, still hast thou been 
Forever loyal to thy God, 

And to thy Kingdom and its Queen ! 
And long, Philopasdian ! long 
And well hast thou in deed and song 
Done honor to the glittering gem 
That sets her regal diadem ! 

VII. 

The Queen is not ungrateful : blest 
With triumphs of a century, 

She decorates her Legion's breast 
With emblems of her royalty. 

VIII. 

Time wove a crown : and to the Queen 



THE GOLDEN JUBILEE. 113 

He gave it with a smiling mien : 
A half a centurj-'s deeds it bears ; 

And while her subjects hail with cheers 
The garlands that the Legion wears, 

With smiles the Sovereign places now 
L'pon the Philop^edian's brow 
These laurels of a fifty years. 

IX. 

A fifty years ! All golden ! yea. 
Each year is an immortal bay 

That twines, as ivies twine. 

In sinuous coils and serpentine 
Around the golden coronal 

Which Time has wove and made it thine, 
In this, thy joyous festival, 
Philoptedian I But other bays 
There are, which reach thro' all the days 
From this, thy year of jubilee. 
To Avhen thou first began to be ; 
And in one long, uabroken train 



114 THE. GOLDEX JUBILEE. 

Extending, bind us with the chain 

Of friendships dear ; 

And tho' within that span appear 

Many a withered leaf of bay, 

Telling of those who have passed away. 

The binding chain is broken not, 

For the absent ones are ne'er forgot ! 

X. 

Philopaedian ! thou who hast been 

Legion of Honor to the Queen ; 

Thou, who hast traced Time's vanished train 

With Friendship's sacred chain ; 

Thou, who hast turned in Learning's way, 
And Eloquence and Truth, 
The pliant minds of many a youth. 

As sculptor shapes the yielding clay ! 

We hail the crown Time wove for thee — 

Thy glorious Golden Jubilee ! 

XI. 

Cincinnati 1 Heaven blest, 



THE GOLDEN JUBILEE. Hi 

Long may'st thou reign Queen of the West ! 

And long may fair St Xavier's gem 

Shine brightly in thy diadem ! 

And thou, Philopsedian I long 

Serve well thy Queen in deed and song I 

Quench not thy zeal and chivalry, 

But still her guard of honor be ! 

Go forth, ye knights — a loyal band — 

Serve God, the Sovereign, and the land ; 

Guard well the brightly glittering gem 

That sets thy Sovereign's diadem ! 

Philopsedian, may the bays 

Entwine thy brow thro' all thy days ; 

And glorious may thy future be 

As this thy year of jubilee ! 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 863 958 



